blood running over (your) skin
by OxymoronProne
Summary: Ren and Koujaku were too late to save Aoba from Ryuuhou. [Non-con, in a sense. Lots of Scrap stuff. Heavy dose of Sly Blue, friends. Ryuuhou's general creepiness.] Oneshot.


**Well I'm hoping this is going to be a quick thing so I can get back to writing all the other stories that I should be writing tbh but I also kind of really love this premise and have only seen like 2 other stories that follow along the same vein of thinking, even though this totally should've been its own bad end but whatever I don't make games or anything. Anyways I hope you guys enjoy this little piece of work that my brain came up with at like 1 in the morning.**  
 **have fun, lovelies.**  
 **Why all the exposition? Because Ryuuhou is a** ** _fucking_** **maniac and I wanted to demonstrate that to you. Sorry for being thorough.**

 **NOTE: Any of the dialogue leading up to the point where Ryuuhou leaves the room to go 'get more supplies' - whatever the fuck that meant i just interpreted it the way i wanted to - is dialogue that I pulled directly from the game. So if it seems a little familiar, that's why. Sorry, but I didn't want to change the road leading up to that point. lolz. bai. -DH**

There was a man in blue.

He stood with another man and two girls, and the other man, the one in the garish red yukata, spoke animatedly at the girls. I narrowed my eyes only for a moment and considered the flamboyantly dressed one, charming the two ladies who both sported examples of my work. I caught a scarce glimpse of black lines crossing his face under his heavy navy hair and I grinned. Koujaku had received one of my more special pieces. I wondered how it was treating him.

But the man in blue - the one with the skin pale and smooth like milk and the softly spiked azure tresses who stood to the side, staring with wide amber eyes at his friend in disbelief - he was perfect. I wondered at once what that skin would feel like. I wondered if my needle would pierce that skin easily - I wondered if it had been pierced before. A feeling rose in my chest - what was this? Was this...could this be...?

My hands itched - I needed to create.

I turned away from the scene with a short promise to myself. I would find that man again - it would take some subversion and a bit of doing, but it would happen - and I would make him mine.

(())

I found him next standing outside of the night club, the bouncer denying him access to the establishment harshly. I grinned to myself and decided to be nice. I found myself telling the bouncer that the blue-haired man was with me, and I wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him firmly inside. I caught a whiff of him just as I felt the power. It skated under his skin, lashing like desire. He felt like burning darkness.

He smelled like fabric softener and toothpaste and too much stress.

Like frayed nerves.

In the few short steps between the threshold and where I removed my appendage from the man's shoulders, my skin was practically crawling with the need to spread ink across his skin. I kept my face composed as I handed the man a membership card for the club and bid him farewell.

I kept my eyes on him though, and watched as an opportunity arose when he succumbed to the drugs in the lights and fell to the floor.

I was just about to make my way over to him and claim him for myself when that annoying brat and his stupid bird Allmate scooped him up and took him away from me. I grimaced; this would be harder than I thought with that imbecile looking after him.

It was no matter, I decided, watching the two of them leave.

I would have him eventually.

(())

He was looking for Koujaku the next time I saw him.

He didn't say that, of course; he said he was looking for 'someone,' but I definitely knew what he meant. I offered my help as calmly as I could manage - anything to spend more time with him - and he declined politely, insistently. It was then that I saw Koujaku over the blue-haired man's shoulder, a glorious snarl twisting his face and his eyes burning with rage, fixed on me.

I informed the blue-haired man that he should beware of people out to gobble him up, as I so desired myself to do, and we parted ways.

I meandered about for a long while, strolling in and out of shops and waiting, as I usually did, for the inevitable. I was a patient man - my work required patience. The rain had started up and now it was pouring, so I pulled out my umbrella and waited more.

Then I saw him again. He was soaked with rain and very, very pale. I approached him as calmly as I could manage, my feet splashing in shallow puddles.

"You're soaked," I commented lightly, offering my umbrella to him with a small smile when he turned around, "I know it's simply raining, but what's wrong? Do you enjoy being in the rain?"

He said nothing to me, but he grimaced.

"What an awful look. Has something happened?"

Again, the man in blue said nothing. I sighed.

"I guess you don't want to tell. And that's why you're standing around here. But you'll catch a cold, you know? You should go home," I told him. I stared out into the nighttime rain for a bit and noticed he hadn't done anything - he hadn't even moved an inch. "Aren't you going to go back home?"

"I don't want to go back," the man replied.

"Oh dear," I said. "You'd be a heartbreaker if you said that as a girl. It's not good to stay out here, so why don't we go get a warm drink?"

Amber eyes widened and blinked a few times. "Huh? But-"

"It's right over there," I pointed at the imposing facade of the club a few meters away, "I'm acquaintances with the owner of that club. I have a private room. I also don't actually live in platinum jail," I shrugged my shoulders a bit, trying to appear more friendly and amiable.

When he didn't respond to me, I nudged his back a little. "What do you want to do?"

After a long pause, he nodded at me, soaked strands of his blue hair clinging to his face and neck.

I skillfully kept the triumph out of my voice when I said, "Then please, come closer so you don't get wet. Ah, would you mind telling me your name?"

In a defeated-sounding mumble, the man replied, "Aoba."

I smiled. " _Aoba_. What a nice name. Mine is Ryuuhou."

"Ryuuhou," Aoba repeated easily. My name fell so simply from his lips I nearly shivered. His voice was lovely.

My smile widened, "Yes. It's nice to meet you."

Then I guided Aoba into the building and up to my private room.

"Go ahead," I said.

"...Thank you," he replied.

I caught him staring at the tea I laid out on the low black table and decided to comment on it. "Isn't it nice? I specially placed an order for these; you can't buy them in Japan," I said, referring to the blossoms floating innocently in the teacups.

He sipped at the tea, and seemed surprised, "It's good."

"That's good to hear," I said, trying to contain my joy.

His eyes turned away from me, and to the art I had hanging on the wall. "Are those pictures..."

"Yes, I'm a tattoo artist," I purred proudly, and I noticed he was focusing on the special design I had in the middle of the wall.

"Really..." his voice trailed off as he stared.

"Aoba, do you have an interest in tattoos?"

"Eh? Sort of, but not enough to actually get one."

"You seemed a bit enthusiastic. If you have any requests, I'd be happy to do them for you," at least this I could say truthfully.

"Oh, no, that'd be...Actually-" Aoba didn't seem to know what to say, but now he looked distinctly uncomfortable.

"Hmm?"

"Why would you go so far to...why are you being so nice to me?"

"I had some interest in you at first glance. Or in simple terms, love at first sight, I guess you could say." Truth, again. But Aoba's widened, slightly frightened eyes made me continue: "I mean that as a joke."

Aoba was still silent, so I went on further: "You must think that's a suspicious thing to say. To be frank, I felt that you were different from others." Aoba stared at me curiously. "That I didn't mean as a joke. When I saw you, I felt that you had some sort of power...you were overflowing with vitality."

"...Okay."

"I felt a force from you. And not just one." Should I stop here? Would I give away too much? I remembered he'd already had some tea, and decided that it was okay to proceed, "Reason, protection...destruction. There's a mixture of those separate purposes within you."

This tore a gasp from Aoba's lips. He appeared as if he suddenly remembered something. He caught my eyes and sipped more tea from his cup.

"Was I right?" I had to know.

The look he gave me was the only answer I needed.

"But I don't want you to misunderstand," I began, "I'm not trying to delve too deep into you; that would be unrefined. Rather than a rose-colored over-simplified concept, I'd have it be difficult and extremely complex. Just like for tattoos."

I made a gesture to my wall, and gently ran a finger down the ink copy of the flowers which sprawled across Koujaku's back. "They may only look like rough drafts, but all of these have been made with precise calculations in mind. I get absorbed when I do tattoos. Gliding down the skin, distorting, circling, extending, blurring, and even the variation in colors. Skin is a rugged thing. Wouldn't you understand if you've seen blood run down it?"

As I spoke, Aoba grew more agitated. I didn't give him a chance to cut in. "When something unexpected occurs, as well - there's no part of a person that can't warp. that's why, when I add ink, I feel like I'm adding life to them through that piercing needle. I give even more texture to their skin. And it must be a respectable work."

It was almost time, I knew. The chemicals in the tea were soon to take effect, and I felt my smile widen as Aoba's eyes suddenly went unfocused.

"I have genuine interest in you," I murmured. His eyes closed completely, and I continued, "Your individual purposes conflict with each other inside of you, and eventually all that's holding you together will be unfastened. That's the fate you're burdened with. There's no option for coexistence...I bet my life on tattoos, and now you. If I put the two together, I wonder what it would give birth to...Interesting."

Aoba made a choked sound of protest and then fell over, mouth agape and muscles completely relaxed.

I went through the careful process of laying him on his front on my black futon, removing his jacket and pushing up the hem of his shirt until I could see the smooth, creamy expanse of his back. My eyes greedily drank in the sight of a small number of scars - old knife wounds, as they appeared - which obviously wrapped around from his stomach and sides to his back. I ran my finger over a particularly nasty-looking one and admired the depth of it. His skin had already been pierced, but it was no matter.

With careful movements, I removed his shirt completely and cast it aside, and reached underneath his hips to unbutton his jeans and slide them down to his thighs, then dragged his underwear down in much the same manner. Using an artist's perspective, it was a lot easier to handle Aoba's exposed backside, I reasoned. If I were looking through the point of view of a simple man, I would have found it much more difficult to restrain myself.

I wondered just how unfastened I could make Aoba. I wondered what that lovely face would look like distorted in agony, or in pleasure.

Or both.

I was just sterilizing the skin of his back with alcohol when he groaned a little, signifying his trudge back to consciousness.

"So you're awake?" I asked.

I could see Aoba wanting to turn his head, wanting to speak, but all that came out was unfiltered noise.

"You still can't move, can you? You shouldn't try. You'll hurt yourself, and even bite your tongue if you try to talk." I swiped more alcohol across his shoulder blades.

It was gargled, but I could hear him asking something about what I was doing.

I decided to be nice and answer him. "Well, in short, I'm furthering my research. It hurts to call it research though; tattoos are my everything, after all. If I scatter my flower petals onto your back, I wonder how the flowers will react? Perhaps they will bloom through your life force. I want to see."

Aoba's choked gasp led me to show him the bamboo rod I was going to use to mark up his skin.

"See? This will penetrate your skin, and ink will soak through all of it." I saw his very being straining to move, to do something, but he still couldn't. "It's no use - you'll just make it hurt more."

And I wished him to hurt more.

I didn't want him accidentally dying before my work was finished, so I pried his mouth open and slipped a sizable piece of leather into it, between his teeth and over his tongue, so he wouldn't be able to bite down on it. Then I smoothed a large strip of tape across his soft lips and met his horrified gaze.

His eyes locked on me, wide and frightened, and he appeared as if he were pleading for mercy. I chuckled and stood.

"Sorry, A-o-ba," I intoned, savoring the sound of his name on my tongue whilst shaking a bottle of ink gently and disinfecting my needles, "but this truly is an act of fate. To think, the most interesting opportunity I've had for a tattoo session in years, associating with one from my past. Be comforted in the knowledge that this was meant to be. I can't wait to see how your skin reacts with the ink."

Aoba whimpered.

I sat on my knees beside the paralyzed young man and lowered the needle-laden rod to his flesh.

(())

Maybe this was just karma kicking my ass, you know? Maybe I pissed off someone really, really important in a past life, or maybe this was just the universe getting back at me for doing so many stupid things when I was younger, but still...

I bit down as hard as I could on the chunk of leather in my mouth to try and keep from screaming as Ryuuhou hit a particularly sensitive section of skin just over my spine.

My back was on fire. It felt more like Ryuuhou was ripping my skin off instead of just tattooing me. Tenbori was known as one of the more horrifically painful and slow methods of tattooing for a reason, but I wouldn't put it past Ryuuhou to be making it more fucking agonizing than it was supposed to be.

He seemed messed up like that.

I couldn't even control the muscles of my neck, let alone the muscles of my arms or legs. Objects far from my eyes were fuzzy, and I couldn't concentrate on much but the pain. I was uncertain about what the insane tattoo artist was drawing on my skin, but I guessed it had something to do with flowers, just like the ones I'd seen on Koujaku's back - just like the stencil of the design I'd seen on the wall.

I simultaneously wished that Koujaku would come to save me, and that I never had to see Koujaku again. My neck still stung from where he'd bitten me, but was being drowned out by the constant burning and my efforts to withhold my screams soon failed.

I cried out for Koujaku, and I cried out for Clear, and Noiz, and Mizuki, and Ren, and Mink, and I knew it was pointless. Any people in the club who may have felt an inkling to help surely couldn't hear me over the intense noise of the thudding base that assaulted my ears even from here, or they were too drugged up to care, anyway. I screamed myself hoarse nonetheless.

Oh, but I wished for someone - anyone, really - to find me and to stop this. More than that, I wished I could stop this and save myself.

A headache flared right behind my eyes and radiated all the way to the base of my neck. Not now! I didn't need this right now!

 _~Switch with me~_

The needle being shoved in and out of my back, every pore flaring with agony as Ryuuhou picked a different spot and stretched the skin taught and began his slow process again, the slow, burning pain working through my skull and the echoing voice so similar to mine that begged me to 'switch' - whatever _that_ meant - it was all too much.

Hours passed in this manner, endless sensation frying my nerves, the pounding pain in my head. From beside me I could hear Ryuuhou humming to himself in the breaks between my pained groans. He seemed pleased with how his work was coming along, the sick bastard.

 _~Switch with me~_

"Aoba," Ryuuhou murmured at me, "The first flowers are done, so I'll be taking a short break, yeah? Just stay right there and I'll be back soon."

The needle was finally gone from my skin, and I heard the smack of rubber gloves being removed followed by soft footsteps growing softer and softer, and the sliding of a door opening and closing.

Slowly but surely, the stinging started fading from my skin, but the dull throb in my head remained. I tried moving again, and managed to clench my fists at my sides. With small, shifting movements I raised myself up on my elbows, and I felt the tingling in my muscles letting me know that some pieces of me had fallen asleep.

My whole back was sore and my toes still wouldn't obey me, and I couldn't manage to gather my legs under me just yet. It was so _infuriating_ to not have control over my own extremities. I felt my lips twisting in a snarl, and though I knew that anger wasn't what I needed right now, I felt my blood pressure rising and the whole world gained a red, hazy film.

 _~Switch with me~_

I grit my teeth and felt my molars grinding against the leather strip, my eyes shut tightly against the suddenly red scenery and my head shaking back and forth slowly. A pressure in the back of my head and a sensation like something touching my neck made me shudder. Holding onto my consciousness was getting harder and harder - I was slipping and it was fucking scary.

The headache intensified and I groaned and felt myself fall completely back onto the futon as the world went black and I lost control.

And then I watched Sly get up from the futon, roll his neck and shoulders, and look around Ryuuhou's room curiously as he peeled the tape off his mouth and spit out the leather gag.

 _~What are you doing?~_ I asked in panic. _~Give me my body back!~_

"Calm down, A-o-ba," came a voice that wasn't mine from my lips, "You seemed stressed so I thought I'd help out a bit. Just sit back and relax, hmm? The situation will improve before you know it." Sly spotted a mirror and moved slowly towards it, turning slightly to see his back. "Oh, Aoba you've been up to quite a bit, haven't you? Nearly naked, covered in blood, and freshly tattooed - it seems our roles have been reversed."

"So you're up and around, are you?"

Sly turned around to see Ryuuhou standing in the open door and grinned a vicious grin at the blonde. "I guess I can give you credit for my new body art?"

Ryuuhou moved further into the room smoothly and shut and locked the door behind him. "Yes, you can."

Sly's grin widened even further, and Ryuuhou frowned. It was obvious the artist hadn't been expecting such a reaction, and amusement bubbled up in Sly's chest in the form of a dark chuckle.

 _"Come over here, artist,"_ Sly commanded, and watched with a small degree of satisfaction as Ryuuhou's confused gaze fell and the man's eyes glazed over as the echoing of Scrap fell into his ears.

Sluggish steps took Ryuuhou closer and closer to Sly, and I watched with dim horror as Sly removed the man's yukata and stared appreciatively at his naked form before removing what remained of his own clothing.

 _~Stop it!~_ I cried as loud as I could from inside my head. _~What do you think you're doing? I thought you were going to get us out of here!~_

"I never said anything about getting out of here - I said that I'd help out. I think having sex is a big improvement, don't you?" Sly asked, reaching out to thread his fingers through Ryuuhou's hair and use the grip to throw him down onto the futon.

 _~Not with him! He kidnapped me! I didn't want tattoos! I barely know him!~_

"Shut it, Aoba. I'm in the driver's seat for now - leave me to have my fun for a bit," Sly demanded, and ignored the rest of my protests. Sly straddled Ryuuhou's hips and gave a harsh bite to the man's neck. "So, artist-man, I've been away for a long while, and I have to say I haven't had a good fuck in a while. I'll be enlisting your services to resolve this, yeah? So just _enjoy the ride_ , if you would."

Ryuuhou moaned and fell backwards, eyes glazed over and pupils blown wide, as Sly gripped the blonde's hardening dick and pumped it roughly. A smirk grew on Sly's lips at the tiny noises escaping Ryuuhou's mouth even as Sly's nails drew blood from the tattoo artist's chest. A masochist, then, just like Sly. This would be so much _fun_.

(())

Everything was blurry, and my breath was coming fast. My muscles wouldn't obey me.

Aoba. The man in blue. Except it wasn't Aoba right now. I didn't know who it was. The thing that wasn't Aoba was on top of me, shoving himself in and out of me. It hurt, but I was still hard and his hand was on my cock. I gasped for air and I neared the edge.

"What a good little artist," Not-Aoba praised me as my vision went white and euphoria flooded my veins and my toes curled. "How the tables have turned on you, huh?"

My nerves felt raw and whatever had taken over Aoba continued thrusting manically until I felt something warm and liquid in nature flooding into me and Aoba groaned in pleasure and bit into my neck hard, slicing into my flesh and drawing blood.

"Well, that was nice," Aoba stood up, letting himself slide out of me. He stared down at me with bright yellow eyes for a few moments, and I marveled at how they'd changed from hazel to poisonous yellow in a few hours. "Blood looks good on you, you know that?"

My ink took much longer to work than that. My flowers would take much longer to bloom than an hour or so - what was this? Who was this? What happened while I was taking my break earlier?

Aoba slipped on his pants and shirt and jacket, and made a move towards the door. I couldn't even move.

"I have some hell to raise out in Platinum Jail, little artist. See you around."

The door slid closed and I was alone, and it seemed like hours later that Koujaku ripped the door to my room off its hinges, looking for his blue-haired friend.

(())

I walked through the hallway of the club and made it to the back stairway with no trouble at all. I felt rather than heard Aoba pounding feebly at the walls of our shared mind, begging me to relinquish control of the body back to him, and I chuckled quietly. The kid just didn't know when to stop, did he? Fucking wimp. If he wanted power, if he wanted control, he would take it without asking for it. He would demand it, like I did.

My back was in pretty bad shape; there was blood seeping into my shirt and the puffy jacket that Aoba insisted on wearing all the time. The skin there was sore, and I'd definitely aggravated it by fucking that cute artist earlier. It was no big deal, I decided, and made to leave the club.

The permanent night sky greeted me as I stepped out of the imposing club and I felt a smile rising on my face. There were so many people around - so many people I could fight.

It had been so long since I'd taken our body out for a joy ride. I shoved Aoba into a corner and I forgot about him for a while. I was going to have fun for as long as I wanted to.

I deserved it.

The dude nearest to me? I fucking _kicked_ him.


End file.
